


End of Days

by Emma



Series: The Queen's Magicians [13]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:42:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma/pseuds/Emma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle for the future of the world has begun</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have remarkably conflicted feelings about the (canon) episode. I liked the general arc of the story, but the whole multiple-betrayal thing felt forced. Even with Manger playing with everyone’s head, some people are more hard-headed than others! And then there was Gwen bouncing between Jack and Rhys until I was ready to tear off her head. So this is…. very different.

     “So what will it be today?” Rhys slid the plate in front of a bleary-eyed Gwen. “Banshees, marching ghosts, or poltergeists?”

      “The Great Mother only knows.” She gulped down her coffee and held out the mug for more. “Everyone is being run ragged. Kathy was telling me yesterday that her office is being deluged with all sort of mad reports. People are living on their nerves and starting at shadows.”

 “You can’t blame them, can you, considering everything that’s been happening.” Rhys munched on a piece of bacon. “Has anyone any idea of what’s causing it?”

      Gwen shook her head. “If we knew that, we’d go to the source. Jack thinks Bilis Manger is behind it. He's had Andy trying to track him down, but so far no luck. Tosh is working twelve hour days keeping all the engines going, and Owen looks like a ghost himself.” She tilted her head, considering the Torchwood doctor. “He really does, no exaggeration.”

      “What is he doing?”

      “Checking out all the poor bastards that have ended up in hospital or the morgue.  But there's more to it than that, I think.” She sighed. “Maybe I'll try to talk to him later.”

      “Doctor Gwen?” Rhys said, teasingly.

      “No, just friend Gwen. He's always driven himself too hard. Almost like he has something to prove, even though he has to know Jack thinks very highly of him. But these days...” She shook her head.   “Something feels wrong.”

      “Didn't you say Toshiko was his best friend?” Rhys picked up the empty plates and took them to the sink. “Talk to her. Maybe she's noticed something.”

      Gwen walked up behind him to wrap her arms around his middle and press her cheek against his shoulder. “You know, that's one of the reasons I love you. You're so Welsh.”

      “Is that a compliment or an insult?” he teased.

      “Compliment. You can see the obvious when it's right in front of your face.” She nuzzled into his neck. “On the other hand, I'm always looking for all sorts of subtle ways of doing something.”

      “Is that what you do?” Turning around, he grabbed her face between his big hands and kissed her. “You should have asked me why it didn't work.”

      “Oh?” She pulled back to see his mischievous smile. “All right, clever Hans, tell me.”

      “It's the subtle thing, sweetheart. You're about a subtle as a New Year's Eve fireworks display.”

      “Oh, you!” She tightened her arms and reached up for another kiss. “And to think I'm marrying you.”

      “That you are, milady, that you...” 

      Her cell phone rang. She made a face, but reached for it. “Yeah... Hey, Andy...  You do?... Yeah, that'll be good. I'll wait downstairs.”

      She put the phone away, letting go of him and shrugging into her leather jacket. “Andy's found Bilis Manger. He owns an antique store on Womanby Street.”

      “Couldn't be much of a store.”

      “He calls it History's End.”

      “Cheerful guy.” He finished rinsing the dishes and dried his hands. “Well, each to our own. I'm going to be doing next month's schedule, and God help the twpsyn who wants Cup days off.”

      He watched her leave with a smile that turned off the moment the door had closed behind her. He had promised himself he would never tell her, but that job of hers scared him stupid.  She would give it up if he asked her, he knew she would, but was damned if he would ask, no matter what. That sort of sacrifice turned people sour and ruined whatever chances a marriage started out with.  He would rather live with the consequences, no matter how horrible to consider.

      The day had dawned sunny and cool, and the weather bloke had promised absolutely positively no rain until the evening, so he decided to walk to the train station. It was a bit of a hike, but he needed the exercise; too much cooking and eating, not enough running. 

      It was still early, so he walked through the park rather than use the pedestrian shortcut, marching briskly down the footpath that paralleled the brook. There were still a few late dahlias out, but fall was in the air and in the soil. He liked the crisp clarity of this time of year, with its hint of cold, but not having yet to bundle up in heavy coat and scarf.

      He heard the sounds as he was reaching the park gates. A baby was crying. It sounded cold and hungry, and something in the sound tore at him. He turned in a slow circle until he could pinpoint the source: a small but fairly overgrown copse of trees directly across from the gates. He picked his way through the flower beds that lined the path and then ran towards the trees.

      As he reached them he realized there was a small trail that led into the copse. He could see where horses had trampled down the grass. Odd. There were no stables near the park that he knew of. His cousin, who loved to ride, always headed out to the centres in Pontcanna or Caerphilly. Besides, this looked like an army had passed through.

      He followed the trail towards a small clearing. He knew what he would find even before he got there; there was nothing like the smell of blood and shit and dirt mixed together. He had spent most of his spare time until going off to University working with his dad in the farm, and he had done his share of butchering. 

      The clearing came as a surprise. It looked bigger than it should have been, almost as if he were in a real forest and not in the middle of Cardiff. There were men and horses strewn about like ninepins, great big pieces hacked off as if by a giant's sword. Some of the wounds were still bleeding.  The baby's cries were coming from the other side, where four horses had fallen in a semicircle around a fifth one that had been pushed against the trees as if to use them for protection. It was a battlefield, he realized, and these people had lost the battle.

      He started toward the sound, reaching for his cell phone as he went. This was Torchwood business, he thought as he examined the bodies he passed. Tall and slender, with sharp-angled faces and hair the color of winter wheat, wearing fur capes, and their hands gripping swords with jeweled hilts, they looked like Tylwyth Teg, but of a kind he had never seen before. It was all of a piece with the ghosts of the Roman soldiers and the Bute Banshee, and all the other odd things that had been popping up for the past month.

      He started to call Gwen, but thought better of it. If she and Andy were stalking Manger, another distraction was the last thing she needed. He searched the address book until he found Toshiko’s number. She had entered it in herself during a quiet conversation while the others pranced about the dance floor the night after their confrontation with the Unseelie Court. _That way you can always reach someone_ , she had said, seeing through his brave front. 

      She answered on the first ring. “Rhys? Is everything all right?”

      “I’m all right, but I just ran into something you lot need to look at.”

      “Leave your phone on. I’ll track you. Be careful, Rhys.”

      He followed her instructions, but kept looking for the baby. He finally found it clutched in the arms of a woman who was either already dead or as close to it as made no difference. It was wailing angrily, pumping its fists in the air. He reached down to pick her up, and as he did, the woman’s eyes popped open.

      “Cúram a ghlacadh dá,” she said, and it should have been babble, but somehow he understood the meaning behind the strange kind of Gaelic she spoke. “Beidh a máthair a lorg a.”

      “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I will take care of her until her mother comes.”

      She seemed to understand him. Slowly, she let go, her head falling back, the light dying out in her eyes. He picked up the girl child and held her against his chest. He unwrapped her blankets and checked her for wounds, but she didn’t seem hurt.

      “Hello, cariad, pretty thing. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.” Her emerald eyes tracked his every move, as if she could understand him. “You know, elves do seem to lose little girls regularly, don’t they? Or are you a Tylwyth Teg at all?” He started back across the field. “Pretty girls don’t belong in this mess. We’ll wait for them by the trail entrance.”

      He didn’t have long to wait. The black SUV drove up to the gates and stopped right across them, blocking the entrance. He had sometimes found their habit of taking up public space annoying, but he understood the need for keeping others from stumbling into the copse. Toshiko and Owen jumped out and ran towards him.

      “What the hell are you doing in the middle of this?” Owen growled. “No, never mind, I’ll talk to you later. She’s not hurt?”

      “Can’t see anything.”

      “All right, I’ll deal with her later.”

      Rhys watched him as he jogged down the trail towards the clearing. Gwen was right, there was something wrong with Owen. The doctor would never have accepted his word on whether the baby was healthy. He might not have the world’s greatest bedside manner, but he was seriously committed to healing. He looked at Tosh.

      “Is he all right?”

      She started to nod, then shrugged. “I don’t know. He hasn’t been talking much to me these days. I’ve been thinking of talking to Jack, but…”

      “So has Gwen,” he said. “When are Jack and Ianto expected back from Tinkinswood?”

      “This afternoon. They wanted to make sure the Captain was comfortable before leaving him with the Tylwyth Teg.”

      Rhys chuckled. “He’ll be fine. Gwen’s godmother will look out for him.”

      “Yes.” She looked over his shoulder. “Here’s Owen.”

      The doctor walked up to them. “Tuatha de Dannan.  Stupid bastards.” He reached for the baby. “Let me see this one.”

      At the touch of his hands, the baby woke and started to wail. Rhys clutched her,  keeping her against his chest. “Hold on, Owen. She’s among strangers, and she knows it.”

     “She’s seven or eight months old, for God’s sake,” Owen said irritably. “Give her here!”

      This time the wails were loud enough to set birds overhead to cawing. Rhys shook his head. “I don’t think she’s ready to let go of me, Owen. How about I go with you?  Maybe you can examine her while I hold her.”

      “What? She’s imprinted on you like a duckling? Oh, all right. Into the SUV with you and we’ll sort if out when we get to the Hub.”

      Rhys nodded. Behind Owen’s back, Toshiko gave him a smile and mouthed _thank you._  Rhys smiled at her, but couldn’t suppress the shiver running down his spine. Gwen had been right. There was something really wrong here.


	2. Chapter 2

     Gwen craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the shop. “Doesn't look like much, does it?”   
  
     Andy snorted. “You should see it from the inside. Every kind of old-looking thing under the sun piled in a heap on top of each other.”   
  
     “Anything that...” Gwen pointed at her nose.   
  
     “Not one. The place is so inert it has to be on purpose.” At her questioning look, he continued. “You remember how someone calls the station at least once a week screaming about something in an antique or charity shop? There isn't even an enchanted love spoon in that place.”   
  
     “Now that's interesting. Why would someone like Manger avoid magical objects?”   
  
     Andy shrugged. “Remember Toshiko said he used some sort of energy wave generator to enter and leave the Other Side. The only think I can think of is that magic would interfere with whatever it is he uses.”   
  
     “Makes sense.” Gwen checked her gun. “Let’s go buy some trinkets, yeah?”   
  
     “Just like that?” Andy asked.   
  
     “Well, it’s not likely that he won’t know who we are, is it?”   
  
     “I suppose not.”   
  
     They turned down the narrow cobbled street. Small shops and restaurants lined both sides. History’s End was tucked in between a five-table Italian restaurant and a print shop. Its arched window displayed an inelegant jumble of wooden chests, pewter candleholders, and tarnished jewellery. The paint on the door was peeling in great big flakes the revealed the cheap wood underneath.   
       
     “Seen better days, hasn’t he?” Gwen whispered to Andy as she opened it.   
  
     The inside was exactly as Andy has described it. Furniture covered in dust was jammed against the wall and each other, leaving only a narrow aisle to reach the counter at the far end. Everything from hand-carved Welsh dragon figurines to embroidered shawls were tossed about with no attention paid to display, or even order. Behind the counter, glass-fronted cases held empty perfume bottles, chipped Meissen china, and fans made of decaying peacock feathers. A door in one corner led into another room beyond.   
  
     “Place could do with a good cleaning,” Andy said, scrunching up his nose. “Let’s check the back room. If we can’t find Manger here we can look in the flat upstairs.”   
  
     “That won’t be necessary.” Bilis Manger came out of the back room, fastidiously straightening his ascot. “There’s no need to hide any longer.”   
 

     “What do you mean?” Andy asked.   
  
     “The Wall between the Worlds is weakening. Soon my Master will come through and take his place as the rightful ruler of this disgusting little ball of dirt you call a world.”   
  
     “Your Master?” Gwen said. “And who might he be?”   
  
     “You would sully his name by speaking it, unbeliever,” Manger spat out the words. “But he has something special for you. Oh yes,” he smiled gently at her. “For all of you.”   
  
     “And that would be?” Andy prodded.   
  
     “He knows your hearts. He always knows what’s in someone’s heart.” A shudder ran through Manger. “And he knows how to take it away so the pain remains long after the thing itself is gone. He will do that for you. He will take what is in your heart and he will destroy it and you will kiss his feet in gratitude for it. You will love him for it even as your heart bleeds forever in your chest.” He smiled again at Gwen. “Your lovely young man. I know the pain you will know, and I will rejoice in it.”   
  
     Gwen’s heart stuttered. “Rhys? What about Rhys?”   
  
     “He’s not safe, is he?” The words seemed dragged out of him. “He’s not safe.”   
  
     Gwen turned on her heel, ready to run out the door, but was stopped by Andy’s hand on her arm. “Gwen…”   
  
     “No! Not Rhys!”   
  
     Andy stepped closer to Manger. “ _Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it.”_  
  
     Manger exulted. “That will be taken from you too. That faith of yours in a just God. You will lose it, and you will weep for it, and you will grovel at my Master's feet.”   
  
     “No, I won't.” Andy's voice was calm and even. “Because the only thing that is unshakeable in my belief is that God exists and that his love for us is implacable and all-encompassing. Seeing what I do every day, how can my faith in his justice not be shaken? But I believe in his love, even when I don't understand it.”   
  
     Manger shifted back to Gwen. “And you? Do you believe?”   
  
     “At this moment I believe in putting you in a cage, Manger. There are some weevils that would love to see you.”   
  
     Gwen's words seemed to terrify Manger. He went even paler than normal, his liver spots standing out clearly in his pasty skin. He stepped back and raised his right hand, etching an elaborate symbol in the air. Gwen threw herself at him, but Manger's figure shimmered and disappeared.   
  
     “Dammit!” Gwen snarled as she reached for her phone and speed-dialed. “Rhys. Rhys love, where are you? In the Hub? What are you doing…. No that’s fine. What? Hold on a minute…” She turned to Andy, who was putting away his own mobile, frowning. “Rhys is in the Hub. He ran into something on the way to work and called Toshiko. Andy, he says there’s something really wrong with Owen.”   
  
     “I can’t reach either Jack or Ianto. Here, let me have that. Rhys? Listen, mate. Can you talk to Tosh without Owen hearing you? Yeah. Good. The two of you get down to the weevil cages and lock yourself in with Janet. In fact, use the large cage and get everyone in the same place, ok? No, it isn’t crazy…. Rhys! Don’t fucking argue with me at the moment, ok? Oh, and tell Tosh to open Myfanwy’s window. Yeah. See you in a while.”   
  
     He turned to find Gwen staring at him. “I know it sounds crazy, but did you notice how afraid Manger seemed when you mentioned the weevils? If whatever is happening to Owen is related to Manger, weevils might be our first line of protection against him.”   
  
     “All right. Let’s get there, yeah?”   
  
     They ran down to the parking garage where they had left the SUV. Several times Gwen felt someone behind her, but when she looked she saw no one. A feeling of impending disaster, of forces larger than life colliding right over their heads, had started to build inside her when Manger had mentioned Rhys. Now it was like a nagging tooth ache. She sent a quick prayer to her Lady as she ran.   
  
     As they turned the corner onto Castle Street, a loud boom shook the buildings and rained glass down on their heads. Ducking into a doorway, they watched as the parking garage exploded outwards, sending brick and steel flying in every direction, and then collapsed upon itself. The air was full of the screams of the injured and the terrified, but they were drowned out as the city’s alarm system roared to life overhead.   
  
     “We’ll never get to the Hub in time!” Andy shouted, trying to make himself heard.   
  
     “Oh, yes, we will!” She shouted back.   
  
     Clasping her medallion in her hand, she sent her thoughts out as she had been taught as a child. It was the first thing she had learned, and it had been drilled into her that it was only to be used in the direst emergencies. Gwen figured this qualified.   
  
     A few tense seconds later, she heard the reply. Hoofbeats thumped and horns sounded as the air around them became oddly thick and the sky darkened into a moonlit night. She heard Andy swallow as he tried to control his fear. The reality of Castle Street was left far behind as they stood on the side of a road lined with oaks and beeches, facing a troop of riders led by a man wearing a horned helmet and holding aloft a hunting horn. Gwen stepped forward.   
  
     “Forgive my impertinence, Uncle, but….”   
  
     “No need, child. We can feel it too. The very ground shakes from the coming evil.” The being looked beyond her to Andy. “It has been a long time since a stranger has ridden with us. Tell me, Christian mortal, do you fear me?”   
  
     “I would if I were not a native of this land and under your protection, Your Majesty.”   
  
     Gwyn ap Nudd threw back his head and laughed. “I should have known you would bring me a clever one, little Gwen. Come.”   
  
     He extended his hand down and she took it. He hauled her up to sit behind him, her arms clasped around his waist. Another rider did the same for Andy. They held on for dear life as the Wild Hunt rode hell for leather across Annfwn. Finally, after what could have been hours or seconds, the horses slowed down, and the air thickened and lightened around them, and they found themselves standing near the Millennium fountain.   
  
     “Whooo!” Andy gasped, bending over to catch his breath. “That was… something.”   
  
     “Andy! Gwen!”   
  
     They turned to see Jack and Ianto running across the Plas. Gwen felt relief at the sight. Jack would know what to do.   
  
     “What the hell is going on?” Jack asked. “The Hub is in lockdown. I can’t reach Tosh or Owen. And the police frequencies are full of calls about explosions near the Castle!”   
  
     “Short version is, we found Manger, who says his Master is coming. Rhys is in the Hub, and if we’re lucky, he and Tosh are locked in with Janet and the other weevils.”   
  
     “And Owen?” Ianto asked.   
  
     Andy shook his head. “We don’t know. Rhys told Gwen there was something really wrong with him, but…”   
  
     “But he didn’t know what,” Gwen said. “I’ve been noticing it too, but I thought it was because… well, he’s not been himself, really, since…”   
  
     “Since Diane.” Jack finished for her. “He’s been having nightmares about Katie, too. He asked me to ask Estelle if she would see him, but she’s been in America for a conference.”   
  
     “Estelle? Your friend who works with children?”   
  
     “She specializes in children but some of her graduate work was on sleep deprivation in adults.” Jack turned back to the slab. “First things first, though. How do we get in the Hub?”   
  
     “The hard way.” Andy said with a tense grin. “I told Rhys to tell Tosh to open Myfanwy’s window. If she managed it, we can get to the slab mechanism from there.”   
  
     Jack shook his head. “We can’t risk the noise. We’ll have to climb down.”


	3. Chapter 3

     His head felt as if it were filled with bees.  
  
     Owen looked around the medical bay, looking for something he could use to force open the cover plate of the Rift engine. Ianto had locked the weapons storage room and he couldn’t find the key. He wondered if Ianto had hidden it on purpose, but on the whole, he thought not. Tosh probably knew where it was, but the stupid bitch had locked herself away in the weevil cells with Gwen’s even stupider boyfriend – Jesus, what the hell did Gwen see in the man – and he couldn’t go down there. He just couldn’t.  
  
     The buzzing was getting louder and louder. Why didn't she understand that he was doing the best he could? Didn't _she_ know he wanted them to be together too?   
  
     Suddenly he remembered the tools Ianto kept in the garage for quick repairs to the SUV. He was sure he had seen of those hammers used to straighten out dents. That would do the job.   
  
     He rubbed his hands together to warm himself but it didn't help. He was being frozen from the inside out, frost settling on the muscles of his arms and legs and thin slivers of icicle, hard as diamonds, stabbing at his eyes. He could feel the icy chill spread along his nerves, shorting out the electrical signals and making him lurch like a third-rate film monster. But he had to keep going because _she_ wanted him to.  
  
     He found the hammer neatly hung on the workshop pegboard. Laughing and sobbing at the same time he grabbed it and nearly howled at the agonizing pain that shot from his palm and up through his shoulder. His nerve endings seemed catch fire from just touching the leather-wrapped handle. He let it go and looked at it closely. She snarled in his mind as the small gold oval came into focus: a dragon crouching under a tree, a sword under his paw and an overturned goblet in front of him.   
  
     The stupid bastard had had his tattoo turned into a stamp.  
  
     He pawed through the drawers until he found a neatly laundered and folded stack of towels. He wrapped several around his hand and grabbed the hammer again. He could still feel an unpleasant throb but it didn't actually hurt.   
  
     Running back into the Hub he threw himself at the engine superstructure. He didn't know much about it. He had very little interest in technology other than medical and was happy to leave all the other stuff to Tosh and Ianto. Still, brute force could put paid to the damned thing.   
  
     He hammered at it for what seemed like hours. Sweat ran down his back and his muscles seized from the effort, but the cold didn't quite leave him; if anything it became more concentrated, curling around his spine and flowing towards his brain. The pain was unbearable, but she wouldn't let him give up, even for a second. Finally the metal started to crumple inwards. He sobbed as he brought the hammer down again and again.  
  
     “Owen.”  
  
     The voice had him whirling around. Jack was standing on the fountain bridge, hands out and palms upwards, showing he was unarmed. She gave a high ululating scream that stabbed his eardrums. He slapped his hands over his ears and shook his head.  
  
     “Owen?”  
  
     “What are you doing here, Jack?” he snarled, picking up the hammer.   
  
     “Didn't she tell you?”  
  
     “You know about _her_?”  
  
     “Oh, yes.” Jack ambled off the bridge. “Possession is a very noisy business.”  
  
     “I'm not possessed!” Owen insisted, his voice shaking. “She's come back to me, Jack. Katie's back.”  
  
     “Katie's dead, Owen.”  
  
     “No! She's beyond the Wall, but not... dead. She can come back, can't you see?” He was pleading now. “She's not strong enough to do it herself, but if I can open the Rift, she can come back. They can all come back.”  
  
     “Like they did at Canary Wharf?” Jack whispered gently. “Owen, do you really think Katie would want a repeat of that?”  
  
     Suddenly it was as if someone had removed a blanket from Owen's senses. No, Katie wouldn't want that. Torchwood London had in its arrogance opened a way for the Oldest Ones to come back from where they had been bound, and if it hadn't been for the Doctor, the world wouldn't have survived it. Katie had spent the last few months of her life trying to make up for her part in it.  
  
     “Jack,” he said tentatively. “What the hell is going on?”  
  
     Jack slid into Tosh's chair. “Short version? Something from the Other Side is trying to get out. Bilis Manger is helping it. Them?” Jack shook his head. “We don't have enough data.”  
  
     “But... Katie?”  
  
     “They needed someone to open the Rift from this end. You were...”  
  
     “I was the weakest one of all of us,” Owen ended the sentence for him.  
  
     “I was going to say you were the most vulnerable. When Katie died you lost everything. You went off the deep end, then snapped back to normal and buried yourself in your work. Still, I think everything would have been fine if you hadn't met Diane. No, don't try to wave if off,” Jack admonished him. “You were developing a good friendship with Tosh, found a solid working relationship with Ianto and Gwen, even with Andy, who for some reason gets up your nose at times. But you fell for Diane so hard and so quickly and then lost her so soon...”  
  
     “Yes.” Owen sat down as if his legs had been kicked out from under him. “I thought it was never going to be all right again. And then Katie came to me in dreams. She said she was in hell, Jack, that if I could rescue her everything would go back to normal. Somehow, it seemed the right thing to do.” He rested his head on his palms. “It was so easy.”  
  
     “I have some ideas about that, and we'll work on it as soon as we take care of this.”   
  
     Owen gave him one of his patented sneer, but it was a weak copy of the real thing. “How?”  
  
     “We'll start by getting you some serious Sensitive training,” Jack said. “I should have realized it. The rest of us have a great deal of natural protection against the supernatural, both through talent and training. But you trained as a Healer. Healers have to be open, so they can intake nonverbal information from their patients. We need to get you trained so that you can open and close your Senses at will.”  
  
     “I can block,” Owen protested.  
  
     “Not enough. You can block anything a human can throw at you, but you can't block supernatural entities, or at least, not those that manipulate emotions. You have to learn to slap them back to their proper place when you encounter them.” He sighed. “This is Torchwood. You can't avoid them.”  
  
     Their attention was caught by the sounds of running feet. Tosh came out of the corridor that led to the weevil cells moving faster than they had ever seen her. She ran up to them then skidded to a halt, her attention fixed on Owen.   
  
     “Are you all right?”  
  
     “I... no. I don't know,” he chuckled wearily. “I think I'm going to close down the medical bay and go home. I need to get some rest.”  
  
     “Not alone.” She said. “I'm coming with you.”  
  
     He nodded. As he passed her, he brushed his fingers over her hair. “Thanks.”  
  
     He started down the steps but suddenly the cold was back, stronger than ever, locking his muscles in mid-step. He tried to fight it off but he couldn't. He felt his body being moved without his permission, his consciousness shunted to one side, a helpless observer. He saw himself moving back towards his desk as if he had forgotten something. He saw Jack turning in surprise and then, realizing what was happening, push Tosh out of the way. He saw Bilis Manger materialize next to the Rift engine, gun already firing, and Jack falling, his shirt soaked in blood. He saw his own hand pick up the hammer and deliver a hard blow on the exact spot where the metal was already weakened and crumpled, and he heard shrieking laughter as the engine blew open, throwing him across the room and into the fountain.  
  
     The next thing he knew he was being hauled out by the back of the coat. “Come on, Owen, come on, we have to get out of here!”  
  
     Andy's urgency managed to dispel the fog in his brain. He crawled to his hands and knees and looked around. The Hub seemed to be collapsing around them. Rhys had his arms around Gwen and Tosh, supporting them as they ran out the cog door. Ianto was holding Jack up with one hand and reaching for Jack's coat with the other.  
  
     “Jack,” Owen croaked out. “What did I do? Who did I set free?”  
  
     Jack looked at him steadily. “My brother. My brother Abbadon, the dark angel, the destroyer of souls.”


	4. Chapter 4

     The shadow of Abbadon the destroyer hung over Cardiff. The sky had turned pewter grey and thick ashy flakes fell as if the air itself was burning around them. Lightning arced down to blast chunks of stone and metal from the buildings surrounding the Plas. The stink of spoiled meat rose from the ground as thick liquid oozed upwards, buckling the pavement and turning the concrete into a spongy mud that grabbed at the ankles. Great black clouds of locusts swarmed over the panicked crowds, the high-pitched whine of their wings blanking out the screams as floundering people went under.   
  
     Gwen hung on to Rhys's hand as they ran down Pierhead Street. Ahead, Jack leaned into Ianto for support, but they still managed to move faster than the rest of them. She turned her head for a moment. Tosh and Andy were holding up Owen, who still didn't seem to be completely recovered. She wondered briefly if he ever would.  
  
     Rhys's sudden stream of profanity made her whip around. They had reached the corner of Falcon Street, where a construction company had leveled some old Victorians to make way for a new plate glass high rise. She had Jack had been arguing about it for months – he defending the Victorian, she preferring mod cons – but there was nothing to argue about now. The building's steel structure was crumpled like a child's toy, tossed aside on top of another building, and the field was bare and pitted, the foundations sticking out every which way. But it was the monstrous figure beyond it that made her squeeze Rhys's hand until he grunted in pain.  
  
     Abbadon strode across the city, its cloven hooves smashing into dust everything it stepped on. He was taller than any building, its massive shoulders brushing the clouds, the membranes of its double set of wings shadowing whole neighborhoods. He was nude; a thick pelt covered his lower torso and legs; at his groin, where his penis should have been, there was a scarred void. His upper half was human, rather well shaped, with muscular shoulders and arms. And the face....   
  
     Gwen sobbed in terror. It was Jack's face. Jack, inhumanly beautiful but brutally cruel, eyes empty of warmth, lips clamped into a sneer. Blood trickled from between the lips, red and human, and she knew it wasn't the demon's own. At the temples, ram's horns curved upwards, steaming with gore. There was so much death around him that Gwen's senses were drowning in it.  
  
     “Gwen! Gwen!” Ianto was shaking her. “We need you strong, cariad. We need you to focus.”  
  
     She felt Rhys's arms go around her waist, and she drew on his strength to steady herself. “What do you need me to do?”  
  
     “I need you to cast a Circle,” Jack stroked her hair gently. “You need to protect the others. Ianto and I... we're going into battle and we might not come back. No. Listen. If Abbadon wins, you have to take them to the Other Side. Shut down the Hub. Hide in Ynys Afalau. Find the Doctor. You're a warrior queen, Gwen. You will need to lead the resistance.”  
  
     She nodded. Reaching up, she brushed her lips against his, and repeated the gesture with Ianto. Jack turned and pulled Tosh into a three-way embrace with Ianto, then smiled at the men.   
  
     “All right. Time to see if my brother has learned to control his temper.”  
  
     He ran down the street, Ianto at his side. Gwen stepped back from Rhys and took his right hand in her left and Tosh's left in her right. The others fell into place. As their hands linked she felt the energy begin to flow.  
  
     “Blodeuwedd, Flower Face, we beseech you, attend us in our hour of need. Arianhrod, Silver-Wheel, we beseech you, attend us in our hour of need. Cerridwen, Moon Lady, we beseech you, attend us in our hour of need.” Power rose inside the Circle and, wonder of wonders, she could See other Circles being cast all across Wales and Annfwn as if they had been only waiting for her summons, other Gods and Goddesses answering the entreaties of their faithful. “Modron, Divine Mother, Great Justice, we beseech you...”  
  
     A horrific bellow cut across the incantation. She looked towards the field. Jack was standing in front of Abbadon, seeming to float above the muck, and he was laughing.  
  
     “So father finally let you out?” He clucked his tongue. “And without trousers. Do you really want every little human insect to see your privates are missing?”  
  
     Gwen swallowed hard. Jack was trying to drive Abbadon into a frenzy. “Modron, Divine Mother, Great Justice, we beseech you, attend us in our hour of need...”  
  
     Abbadon bellowed again and plunged his massive fist down towards Jack, who jumped out of the way at the last minute. The smash left a crater in the ground where he had been standing. Jack hit the ground and rolled to his feet. Gwen could see he was a little unsteady.  
  
     “He won't last long,” Owen said. “He was shot less than an hour ago. He needs recovery time!”  
  
     As if he had heard Owen's words, Ianto stepped out from behind some girders, drawing his gun from the holster under his arm. Bracing himself as if he were in the shooting range, he emptied the clip into Abbadon's bare groin and then stepped back into hiding. Thick, oily blood spurted out and the demon tossed his head back in agony, but it was short-lived. They watched in horror as the wounds healed. Enraged, Abbadon raised his foot and brought it down on top of the girders. The steel screeched as it collapsed. They couldn't see whether Ianto was underneath or not. Tosh gave a small hiccuping sigh.  
  
     Jack moved front and center again. “You must be very hungry after all this time, brother. So hungry and so lonely, down in your empty pit, waiting, always waiting... what are you waiting for?”  
  
     Abbadon snarled and lowered his head like a charging bull. Energy streamed out of the horns and enveloped Jack. His arms splayed out and his back arched in agony. Gwen could feel him feeding Abbadon his own energy, and the demon fighting to take it in without giving up his own. Slowly, Jack was driven to his knees, but he still fought back, pouring more and more of his life source into the link.  
  
     “Look!” Andy shouted.  
  
     Ianto had crawled out from under the crumpled girders. He was bleeding from several places, but he used the steel to push himself up until he was standing again.   
  
     “He's going to attack it barehanded,” Rhys whispered in disbelief.  
  
“Is there anything that can beat that thing?” Owen asked. “Anything at all?”  
  
     “Nothing.” Bills Manger stood a short distance away, smiling triumphantly. “The Captain gave back the only weapon that could. Caledfwlch is back with the King, and none of you can reach it.”  
   
     Gwen felt Rhys jump slightly. “Rhys?”  
  
“What he's saying... it's true and yet not true.” Rhys seemed dazed by the insight. “There is a way.” He shook his head and his grip on Gwen's hand tightened. “You know how, Gwen. You know.”  
  
     Gwen felt power course through her. Her lids dropped and her eyes turned upwards until only a sliver of pupil was showing. “And the Guardian and his Heir shall have power and dominion on behalf of the King until the King's return...” Her eyes snapped open. “Ianto!” He turned to look at her. “Call Caledfwlch, Guardian's Heir. Call the sword to you!”  
  
     She could see the sudden flare of understanding in his eyes. He pulled his shirt open and put his hand flat over his heart. Gwen gathered power from the Circle, and from all the Circles in Wales and Annwfn, and from the Presences that hovered above them, and fed it directly into Ianto's hand, into his heart. And suddenly Caledfwlch was there, glimmering, the Sword of the Great King, the protector of Cymry, and the Guardian's Heir reached out and wrapped his hand around the grip.  
  
     Ianto ran to Jack and thrust the sword into his hand. The feel of it seemed to invigorate him, and he pushed himself to stand. Abbadon bellowed in rage and rushed in, trying to pick Jack up. Jack pivoted out of the way and slashed at the tendons in the back of Abbadon's legs. Blood fountained up through the severed flesh. Bellowing, in pain this time, Abbadon fell to his knees. Jack shifted his grip and drove Caledfwlch  into his brother's heart.  
  
     Manger screamed and blinked out as if someone had yanked him by the collar. Jack staggered as Abbadon's body exploded into a cloud of dust. Ianto ran up to him and Jack leaned gratefully into his lover's embrace, burying his face in Ianto's neck.   
  
     Gwen ran through the closing prayers as fast as polite behavior allowed, but she felt the Gods' pleasure and their approval. As she said the final words they broke the link and ran towards the embracing figures. This time their circle had a center and everyone tried to wrap their arms indiscriminately around everyone else, a group hug that ended in giggles as the tried to figure out how to untangle themselves.  
  
     “God!” Andy bent over laughing. “I'm starving!”  
  
     Ianto thwacked him on the shoulder. “That's your answer to everything, even miracles? Food?”  
  
     “I'd love something to eat myself.” Jack said, grinning. “All I had for breakfast was a couple of fairy cakes!”  
  
     Rhys caught Gwen's attention and gave a slight jerk of the head towards the two men, who had not taken their arms from around each other. “Well, there's not likely to be a takeaway open around here today! I have a couple of large homemade pizzas in the freezer at home. We could stop by and pick them up.”  
  
     “I have some wine and chocolate cake myself.” Tosh offered. “And I'm sure to have a few other goodies stashed away. Owen and Andy can keep me company while I search. Meet back in the Hub in an hour or so?”  
  
     “Sounds good,” Gwen said. “You two,” she pointed at Jack and Ianto, “shower and change. No offense, but you stink a little.”  
  
     Jack saluted. “Yes, Ma'am, huh! And... pass my thanks along.”  
  
     She smiled. “I will. Come on, everyone. Let's get the stuff so we can get this party started.”  
  
     Jack and Ianto watched them go. Finally, Jack bent down and retrieved the sword. “Let's go home. I need to make sure we're both alive and well.”  
  
     Ianto smiled at him. “I'd like that.”


	5. Coda

     “Stand still.”  
  
     Jack's shoulders twitched as the soapy flannel rubbed lightly down his spine to make circles over one buttock and then the other. “It tickles,” he complained. “Do it harder.”  
  
     “You always want it harder,” Ianto whispered in Jack's ear as he brought the cloth around to rub Jack's stomach right above the groin. “And harder, and harder...”  
  
     “Ianto,” Jack moaned. “Please!”  
  
     Ianto dropped the pretence with the flannel and wrapped his arms around Jack, pressing his erection into Jack's buttocks. “Like this?”  
  
     “Any way you want it!”  
  
     “Brace yourself.”  
  
     The implied promise sent a shiver through Jack. He pressed the palms of his hands against the tile, arching his back, offering himself to his lover, then dropped his head in submission. He had come to crave the feeling of giving himself over to Ianto, of releasing his will and letting Ianto take the lead, to have Ianto's hands shape him, mold him, knowing that each touch of those clever fingers was a declaration and a vow on Ianto's part.  
  
     He waited for what felt like an eternity until Ianto's lube-slicked fingers breached him. He moaned and opened his legs a little wider. Ianto chuckled, pressing even deeper, gently working Jack's muscles.  
  
     “Like that,” the lovely Welsh voice crooned in Jack's ear. “Open. Waiting for me.”  
  
     Jack pushed back against Ianto's hand, trying to impale himself on Ianto's fingers, but Ianto would not allow it. Withdrawing his hand, he positioned himself at Jack's entrance and pressed in until he was deeply seated. Jack arched and twisted until he could reach Ianto's mouth. The kiss went on and on while they held themselves still, savoring the connection but not needing to do more. Ianto's hands roamed over Jack's torso, stroking his nipples, following the hard line of his abdominal muscles, circling around the belly button and then finally, finally, threading through Jack's pubic hair to reach his erection.  
  
     They had played this game before, and Jack was more than willing to follow Ianto's lead. He held himself still while Ianto's fingertips ghosted delicately over his penis and scrotum, letting the need build until they were both shivering. Then, as Ianto's wrapped his hand around Jack and stroked firmly, they gave in and moved. Too wound up to take the slow road, they pounded together until they erupted.  
  
     They sagged against the shower tile, gasping for air. Jack gave a small moan of disappointment when Ianto withdrew, but disappointment turned to pleasure when he felt the hot water massage his body. When it stopped, he looked back over his shoulder to see Ianto putting the shower head back on its holder.  
  
     “Give me that.”  
  
     “Jack, you must be tired...”  
  
     “Not too tired to care for you.”  
  
     He washed Ianto with the same thoroughness Ianto had shown him, and to much the same effect. Grinning, he backed Ianto into a corner and put a hand on either side of his head, trapping him in place.  
  
     “So...”  
  
     “The others will be here soon, Jack.”  
  
     “They'll wait.”  
  
     “And take the piss afterward.”  
  
     Jack shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. He closed the space between them until it felt to Ianto as if every inch of their skin were touching. Sighing, Ianto slid his arms around Jack's waist to press him even closer and rubbed against him like a cat asking to be petted. Jack chuckled and used one hand to hold their erections together.  
  
     “You love this, don't you?”  
  
     Ianto's only answer was to lick at Jack's lips. Jack waited until he had established a pattern – left corner, right corner, upper lip, lower lip, upper lip again – and at the next pass opened his mouth and sucked Ianto's tongue in.   
  
     Ianto moaned and shifted his head, deepening the kiss. Their tongues tangled as they began thrusting gently, just a small tipping of hips, letting the fire build slowly until their muscles quivered from the effort to hold back. Each thrust, each stroke, brought them closer. At last Ianto couldn't stand it any longer and he wrapped his hand over Jack's and squeezed, twisting his wrist slightly.  
  
     “God, Ianto!”  
  
     Ianto felt Jack spurt into their joined hands. A second squeeze, a third, and he came too, throwing his head back, moaning deep in his throat.  
  
     “You're perfect for me,” Jack growled. “Perfect.”  
  
     Ianto blinked back tears. Sometimes the intensity of his feelings for Jack terrified him. Knowing that Jack wanted it, wanted him, made everything that had happened before worthwhile. He dropped his head on Jack's shoulder. “And you for me, cariad. Forever.”  
  
     They washed and dried each other, trying very hard to behave themselves but not always succeeding. Finally, Ianto put some distance between them, ignoring Jack's pout, and managed to get himself dressed.  
  
     “I like you like that,” Jack said. “You look very sexy in sweat pants and a t-shirt.”  
  
     Ianto gave him an amused eye-roll. “I thought you liked me in suits.”  
  
     “I love you in suits,” Jack agreed promptly. “And in sweat pants and in pajamas and best of all naked. I really, really, really like you naked.”  
  
     Ianto snorted. “Well, you can't have me naked right now. Come one, let's go upstairs. Everyone should be here soon and I'd much rather not...” A high-pitched ululation coming from the direction of the rift engines made him wince. “What the hell?”  
  
     “No. He can't ask it of me. Not now.”  
  
     The despair in Jack's voice terrified Ianto. As the sound repeated, louder and sharper, somehow more insistent, he reached for Jack's hand and found it ice cold. “What is it, Jack? What's wrong?”  
  
     “Did you ever wonder why Myfanwy didn't help us against Abbadon?”  
  
     “To be honest, I didn't have much time to think. I was too bloody terrified. But now, yes, I do wonder. She's completely loyal to you...” He brought Jack's hand to his lips, trying to warm him up. “Tell me, Jack.”  
  
     “There's someone who commands her highest loyalty.”  
  
     “The Doctor,” Ianto guessed.  
  
     Jack nodded. “He is the Guardian, standing in place of the King. Myfanwy is the symbol of what he guards.”  
  
     “During the fight, Gwen called me the Guardian's Heir.”  
  
     “You are. Someday, when he... leaves... you will take his place. But...” The sound repeated again, this time sharp enough to hurt their ears. “Come on. She won't stop until I answer.”  
  
     Ianto ran after Jack, heart thudding. Something was happening, something that had sent Jack, who feared neither fae nor demon, into a bone-shaking terror, and Ianto felt the world slipping from his grasp once again.  
  
     He skidded to a stop as he entered the main area of the Hub. The room appeared ten times as large as he knew it to be. Myfanwy crouched in the middle of the vast expanse, her huge head swinging from side to side. Beside her stood the Doctor and his companion, Martha. The Doctor looked exhausted, and it was obvious to Ianto that Martha was discreetly holding him up.  
  
     “Doctor?”  
  
     “I'm sorry, Jack. I'm so sorry.”  
  
     Jack started to say something, then thought better of it. He turned to Ianto, and the Welshman saw the love and regret in his eyes.  
  
     “I have to go.”  
  
     Ianto fought down his own terror. “We can be ready in fifteen minutes.”  
  
     The Doctor shook his head. “You cannot go.”  
  
     Ianto stepped to Jack's side, slightly behind and to the left, slipping into his squire role. “He is my liege lord.”  
  
     “And you are my Heir.” He doctor sighed. “If something goes wrong, you will be the only one left to take charge.”  
  
     “Of what, for the Land's sake? I wouldn't know what to do!”  
  
     “You will. When I am dead, the Knowledge will transfer to you, and may the Land have mercy on you.” The Doctor swayed slightly, and clutched at Martha's hand to steady himself. “People like us, Ianto Jones, we do what we do for Its sake. For the Land and the King.” He pulled himself up until he was standing very straight. “I make you a promise. If he doesn't come back, neither do I. Both, or none.”  
  
     “That is supposed to reassure me?” Ianto raised his hand to cut off the flow of words he was sure would follow. He took Jack's hand and tangled their fingers together. “Come back to me, cariad.”  
  
     Jack raised their joined hands to his lips. “My word on it. I have something to come back for, this time.”  
  
     Ianto put that little phrase away for later examination, and gave Myfanwy a pat on the nose. He was sure that the dragon's answering snuffle was her own attempt at reassurance, and under other circumstances, it would have made him laugh. He stepped back, watching as Jack stood close to the Doctor and placed a hand on Myfanwy's neck The air around the small group began to sparkle, the light intensifying until he had to close his eyes. When he opened them again, he was alone.  
  
     He didn't know how long he stood there, just breathing, trying to adjust to the world without Jack's presence. He did not move until he heard the cog door open and the others come in, laughing, their arms full of packages.  
  
     “Hey, Ianto, we found some of that sausage you love so much,” Owen said. “And Tosh still had a couple of bottles of Jack's favorite ale. Speaking of which, where is he?”  
  
     “He had to... go somewhere.” Ianto noticed Andy's whitening face and made a mental note to talk to him later, alone. “He told me to tell you he expects to find everything in working order when he gets back.”  
  
     Gwen touched his arm gently. “And when will that be, Ianto?”  
  
     He pulled her into a hug. “I don't know, love. I don't know.”


End file.
